join me in exile (I made you a friendship bracelet)
by AlwaysPadfoot
Summary: Put into the care of the Healers at St Mungos, Ginny meets a familiar face she definitely didn't expect to see.


**AN:** Prompts will be displayed at the bottom to avoid them potentially giving away things.

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 **join me in exile (I made you a friendship bracelet)**

 **AlwaysPadfoot**

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Ginny felt as though she'd been cast out. Exiled to the top floor of St Mungos.

Living away from her family, after everything that had happened with the diary and with Tom, felt like a punishment. She couldn't understand why her parents would believe she'd be better off in the care of the St Mungo's healers. Ginny wasn't sick; she didn't need healing. She just had to forget about Tom. In her opinion, she could do that at home, but Mum insisted otherwise — the healers are professionals, Ginerva.

Watching her Mum walk away from the Healer she'd been abandoned with felt like someone was ripping her heart right out of her chest.

Crying was a weakness. She would not cry in front of the Healers, or in front of any of the other residents of the ward. Ginny stayed silent as Healer Morgan showed her around the ward. She felt numb as the places she would eat, sleep, and relax were pointed out. Ginny wanted her own bed; Ginny wanted to be surrounded by the chaos of her family. She did not want to feel as though she was constantly being observed — it all felt miserably clinical.

Feigning disinterest in spending any time in the recreation room, Healer Morgan allowed Ginny to resign to her room.

Standing in the small space that would be hers for an unspecified amount of time, Ginny felt reality collapsing in on her. The Healers thought she was crazy; her parents thought she was too. And bit by bit, after endless nights of screaming nightmares and hearing Tom — even seeing him — Ginny, too, was starting to believe that she just might be losing her sanity.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring hopelessly at the bag her mum had packed for her. Ginny was struggling to muster the energy to get up and unpack it.

Not wanting to make the room hers, she kicked it under the bedside table and lay with her back to the room. Deep in the back of her mind, the imprint of Tom crooned a taunt about how she was acting childish, and Ginny put her hands over her ears.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut.

A faint chuckle echoed in her head and then silence crept across her.

In some ways being alone, isolating herself from people, made it worse. Ginny weighed up the torment in her head against the abject looks of horror she received when he head snapped to the shadows in the corners of her eyes, or when she snapped at Tom for teasing her. Maybe it would just be better if she was alone; maybe then Tom would get bored because he couldn't embarrass her.

Everything just felt useless, trapped in this ward with no escape in sight.

"Weasley?"

Ginny bolted upright turning to see someone was leaning against the frame of the door. She forced her expression into something that didn't look like she was about to cry. The squashed-faced girl in the doorway was instantly recognisable. It was Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin in the year above, and she was scowling.

"Wow, they really have lowered the standards of this place," the Slytherin observed, lips pursed.

"Go away, Parkinson," Ginny snapped.

The girl scoffed. "Slytherin's Monster must have really messed you up in that chamber."

Before Ginny could respond, Pansy had left the doorway and walked away, leaving Ginny frustrated that she hadn't been fast enough to come up with a witty comeback. She dropped back on the pillow, inhaling shakily.

This day could just not get any worse.

* * *

Ginny didn't grow to like the ward anymore over the first week she spent there. The healers wanted her to talk about Tom; Ginny did not want to talk about Tom. One of the Healer's, Healer Griffith — a bizarre man who walked with a cane — seemed to be sure that he could even have a conversation with Tom himself. It honestly made her uncomfortable, so Ginny tried to avoid him as much as possible.

It was a Saturday morning.

Ginny was absent-mindedly stirring the dregs of milk around with her spoon, listening to the mumbled chatter around her. Every so often she'd steal a glance at the clock, waiting for the moment that they would be able to leave so she could go back to her room and ignore everyone. Besides, she sort of liked the fact that it was counter-productive to her recovery because she wanted to go home. She missed her family, and she missed her room. Ginny would be ecstatic if they just let her leave because this ward was suffocating.

A young boy — who Ginny didn't remember the name of — was sat opposite her and suddenly piped up. "You've been here like, a week right? Ginny?"

"One-hundred and seventy-nine hours," Ginny confirmed without looking up.

"It's too early for maths," a familiar voice said from behind her.

"It's never too early for maths," Ginny said. "Besides, at least I can count Parkinson."

"Fucking shut it, Weasley."

To Ginny's surprise, Pansy sat down beside her and the redhead finally looked up with her near-empty bowl. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," Pansy said simply, taking a bit of a piece of toast. "We're both stuck here unless you have somewhere better you can go?"

Ginny didn't indulge the Slytherin with a response, and the two girls sat in silence until one of the matrons rang a bell signalling that they now had an hour of free time. Relieved, Ginny stood, only to be stopped by Pansy clearing her throat loudly and holding out a book. For a moment Ginny didn't understand, but then suddenly she realised that the book Pansy was holding was hers.

"What the hell, Parkinson? Did you take this from my room?"

Pansy gave her a look as if to say, obviously.

Ginny snatched it from her, put her bowl with the other dirty items, and then stalked from the room. Of course, that snake had decided to snoop around in her things, Ginny thought, as she walked fast in the direction of her room. If Parkinson was going to be a shit the whole time she was here, Ginny might really go mad.

Throwing the book on the bed, Ginny stood, wondering what to do with her spare time. Her gaze moved to the stack of comics and books her brothers had packed, landing on the sheet of smiley stickers the twins claimed she needed. Picking them up, Ginny turned it over in her hands. The room she had was exceptionally bare and the stickers were supposed to make her smile. Deciding she had nothing better to do, Ginny went around the room sticking smiley faces to every visible surface, including the door of the room. Last but not least, Ginny stuck one on the ceiling above her bed.

That way, when she lay there at night, she could look up and be reminded of family, of her brothers and the Burrow.

* * *

Later that evening, as Ginny lying reading a comic, Pansy Parkinson invited herself into her room.

Just as Ginny was about to tell her to piss off when she noticed the strange look on Parkinson's face. She looked scared; her chest was heaving like she'd been running. Ginny sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bed and frowned at the Slytherin. Parkinson had her back flat against the now firmly closed door, her eyes squeezed shut.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

The girl shook her head. "Don't, Weasley, just don't say a thing."

"You're in my room," she pointed out.

Both girls jumped when there was a loud knock on the door. Parkinson backed off quickly, fear in her wide brown eyes. Ginny, immediately, got to her feet, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that was telling her that Parkinson could handle her own problems. Just as whoever the visitor was knocked again, Ginny pulled the door open and frowned. The boy standing there was one of the other residents of the ward — Callum Rowle. Honestly, Ginny found that he gave off an aura of entitlement, and after the volatile behaviour that she'd seen him display a few times in the last week, Ginny did her best to avoid him.

"Send Parkinson out please," he demanded.

Ginny subtly put her foot behind the door so he couldn't push it open, something she'd done multiple times to her brothers.

"She's not in here."

"I saw her come into this room," Callum insisted, staying firmly put.

"You saw wrong," Ginny countered.

He put his hand on the door, applying a slight pressure that Ginny felt in her left foot, and she watched his eyes narrow. "I did not. So either send her out or I will come in and get her."

There was no way Ginny was going to do that. She could tell Callum's intentions weren't good by the look in his eyes and the forcefulness of his actions. In her opinion, one should be subjected to something they didn't want to be a part of — not even Parkinson. Ginny gritted her teeth, straightened up and stood firm.

"You want to get to Pansy?" Ginny said. "You have to go through me before you step foot in my room."

Callum's hand snapped out and gripped her left wrist painfully tight. Ginny immediately felt anger course through her veins, and before she could really think, she slammed her small fist into his face. Pain jolted through her hand but, at least, the action had made the boy stumble back with a pained yell. Ginny hissed a swear word at her own stupidness at punching him the wrong way, leaving her hand throbbing. She could practically hear Charlie in her head.

Never put your thumb inside your fist; you'll break it.

It seemed like she'd gotten lucky because she tentatively moved it without experiencing a dizzying pain. Before anything else could happen, two of the ward staff members came running down the corridor. Ginny instantly started crying, something that she would say came unnaturally easy for her to fake. Nine times out of ten it worked at home, except for on her mum.

"He—he tried to get in my room, b-but I didn't want him too," Ginny said over quiet sobs as the staff approached.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Callum exclaimed. "She punched me."

Ginny wiped her tear-stained face with her sleeve and looked at the staff member. She lifted her arm to show the indents of Callum's nails combined with the red finger marks. "He grabbed me."

Callum looked like he wanted to launch himself at her, but before he could, the staff member who'd just healed his bloody nose was guiding him away. Ginny let herself grin at him when no one else was looking, feeling smug that she'd managed to pull one over on him and the attending staff members. After being checked for injuries by the remaining staff member, June, she explained that Ginny would have to fill in a form saying what happened.

Paper in hand, Ginny went back into her room where Parkinson was stood looking like she was lost. She looked up. "You didn't have to do that."

"If I learnt anything last year, it was that to survive you have to stand up for yourself," Ginny shrugged.

Parkinson was looking at her curiously, clearly speechless. Ginny, admittedly, was curious as to why Callum had wanted to speak to her. And also, she wanted to know why — of all rooms — Parkinson had chosen to run into this one. The Slytherin approached Ginny and held out her hand.

"Thank you, Weasley," she said. "I owe you."

Ginny took her hand to shake it. "It's just Ginny. We're stuck together, might as well get used to our actual names. And you don't owe me anything, he is a moron. There was no way he was getting in here."

As they let go of one another's hand, Pansy exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her hair. The vulnerability that she was displaying was so out of character than Ginny suspected that this was the best time to ask why on earth what had happened actually came to fruition.

"Pansy?" Ginny asked. "Why was Callum following you?"

"Because I'm not crazy and he doesn't believe that," Pansy responded. "He wants me to prove that I'm—"

Pansy cut herself off and closed her eyes, not continuing.

Ginny decided to prompt her. "Prove that you're..?"

"I'm a seer."

Ginny felt her eyebrows shoot upwards at the revelation. Pansy Parkinson? A seer? That was not at all what she had been expecting the other girl to say. If she was a seer, then why on earth would her parent send her here? This ward was supposed to help those with mental health issues, not people who had a natural gift. Pansy was watching her, waiting for a response. Perhaps the Slytherin was looking for any hint that Ginny was about to laugh her out of the room or tell her that she was crazy. There was no way she would do that; Ginny understood that better than anyone.

"But—" Ginny began.

"Why am I here?" Pansy finished, her irritation clear. "My parents want me fixed; I can't possibly be a seer they say."

Ginny frowned and then sat down on the edge of the day. "Okay, when did you realise you were a seer?"

"You believe me?"

"Yeah, of course," Ginny responded, patting the bed beside her. "You might as well sit down; I have a feeling this will be a long story."

Pansy cocked her head to the side in curiosity, deliberating what to do. Then she came and sat beside Ginny on the bed. The Slytherin took a slow breath and then began to explain. Ginny found herself immersed in Pansy's story. About how, at first, she'd thought things were simply coincidences. Then how her random visions started becoming more specific and she'd resorted to saying 'I knew that would happen' more regularly than not. Then what finally did it was the vision of her being at her brother's grave. She'd wrote home regularly last school year to check that he was well; her parents had told her to stop lying for attention.

Then he'd died suddenly.

Ginny put her hand on Pansy's arm as the brown-haired girl hid her face, looking down at her striped socks. She obviously had been taught to hide her feelings like a good Pureblood girl who was supposed to be seen and not heard.

"I believe you, Pansy." Ginny found herself feeling oddly protective. "I'm really sorry about your brother, and if you need to talk you can always come speak with me."

"Really?"

"Really."

* * *

"For fuck's sake."

Ginny's head snapped up from the threads she was weaving together to see Pansy scowling down at her own strands of gold and green. She looked like she wanted to set them on fire, and if looks could kill, Ginny would suggest everyone ran a mile.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"These stupid threads; I can't get them to do what you're doing." Pansy gesticulated wildly between her wild threads and Ginny's neatly plaited ones. "How are you even doing that?"

"Are you going to actually let me explain?" Ginny asked. "Or are you going to start yelling at the threads again midway through?"

Pansy pursed her lips but didn't respond even when Ginny grinned widely at her win over the older girl. She took her time to explain, demonstrating how to twist the threads into patterns. Finally, Pansy managed to replicate the movements Ginny showed her. Both of them had been forced into social activities over the last few weeks, but the girls took the opportunity to sit and complain about them. Arts and crafts had never really been Ginny's thing, nor was it Pansy's, but they had somehow both found their niches.

Pansy liked to cross stitch — mainly swear words and sarcastic quotes — whilst Ginny much preferred the friendship bracelet activity they were doing now.

Finally, Pansy got into a rhythm and by the time the activity had finished, they had offered the friendships bracelets to one another. Ginny now wore a plaited bracelet of greens and gold; Pansy sported blues and purples.

"You know, Gin, I'm starting to realise that you might actually be alright — for a Gryffindor."

Ginny hid a slight smile and then shrugged. "I guess you're okay too, Pansy."

Pansy scrunched up her nose and punched her lightly on the arm before they laughed. Catching her breath, Ginny turned back to the Slytherin with a more serious expression.

"Seriously though, Pansy," Ginny said. "I'm glad that you were here, well, maybe not here, but that we got to know each other better."

Pansy nodded in agreement as they were called to help in tidying up the room before they could slip away. Ginny flicked pieces of paper across at Pansy every time the staff member on duty turned their back, both silently giggling so they didn't draw attention to one another. Sure, Ginny missed her family. Sure, she missed her home. But whilst being stuck here, Pansy had made it easy to ignore the sinister voice in the back of Ginny's head. She'd made it easy to pretend that they weren't stuck in St Mungo's together.

In some ways, Ginny hoped she'd helped Pansy too. She liked to think she had. Pansy seemed to smile a bit more. And, even though, they both still bickered, it wasn't malicious like it had been when Ginny first arrived. One way or another, Ginny knew that with Pansy, they would get through the last week here. Even if they had to raise hell to do so.

They had friendship bracelets after all.

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 **Comp/Challenge & Prompts: **

**Femslash February:** 46\. Ginny/Pansy

 **Scavenger Hunt:** 26\. Write about someone decorating something with stickers.

 **Serpent Challenge** : 63. Urutu - (setting) St. Mungo's

 **Lent Challenge:** O6 - Write about someone being exiled or exiling themselves

 **Play more Cards** : 13. Texas Hold'em - write about two people stuck together

 **Library Lovers:** Sabriel - Garth Nix: (object) Bell, (plot point) Missing loved one, (plot point) Taking on responsibilities, (ability) Seer, (dialogue)

 **Insane House Challenge** : 467. Item - Stickers

 **365 Prompts Challenge** : 163. Item - Socks

 **Writing Club [Character Appreciation]** : 10. St Mungos (setting)

 **Writing Club [Disney Challenge]** : Character 1 - Write about a survivor.

 **Writing Club [Book Club]** : Mother Abigail: (emotion) pride, (plot point) going into exile/being exiled, (au) Seer, (word) survive

 **Writing Club [Days of the Month]** : Hedgehog Day - Write about someone who looks cute but is quite prickly or dangerous

 **Writing Club [CYB]** : 4. Spoon (object)

 **Writing Club [A Year in Entertainment]** : TV: House - (object) Cane

 **Writing Club [TV Show of the Month]** : Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan: (dialogue) "It's never too early for math.", (item) book, (action) partaking in some self-defense

 **Word Count:** 2987 — not inc. notes, titles, or ANs.


End file.
